


You are the artist and the art

by asamandra



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Don't copy to another site, M/M, Prompt Fill, The Old Guard Kinkmeme, art thief!Nicky, artist!Jjoe, dealer!Andy, hacker!Booker, no powers au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:35:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 5,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27803149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asamandra/pseuds/asamandra
Summary: Nicky comes to steal art and instead steals the artist.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 84
Kudos: 174





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [This](https://theoldguardkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/7005.html?thread=2485341#cmt2485341) prompt on The Old Guard kinkmeme: 
> 
> Joe is a famous painter ‘think Bansky type in fame, but way less pretentious’
> 
> Nicky is an art thief breaking into a museum at night to steal one of Joe’s paintings. Little does he know that Joe is there late at night working on his new exhibit!
> 
> Somehow, they get to talking and Nicky realizes that Joe is the most beautiful person he’s ever seen.

“Nervous?” Nile asked and looked at Joe. 

“Huh?” he said and turned to her. “What?” He had just scrutinized the array of his paintings and artworks. 

“The exhibition opens in a few days,” Nile said and went to Joe and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Are you nervous?” 

“No,” he shook his head, then scratched the back of his neck and ducked his head and shrugged. “Maybe a bit,” he admitted. It was his first exhibition in a museum and if he was honest with himself, he just shit his pants. What if the people hated his works? What if they shoot him down in flames? What if...

“You’re good, Joe,” Nile said and stopped his thoughts. “And the people will love your artworks.” 

“You think?” he asked and Nile nodded. 

“If you weren’t good, we wouldn’t have asked you to show your work, honey,” she smiled. 

Nile worked here in this museum and she was responsible for the modern arts section. It was her who had sent him an email and asked if he would have an exhibition in this museum. 

Joe literally did a happy dance through his atelier when he had read it and the next day he had called her. 

And now he stood here, in Rome, in the Palazzo delle Esposizioni and looked at his own artwork at the walls and in between. He wiped his face with both hands and shook his head. 

“I still can’t believe it,” he said. 

“Don’t worry, Joe,” Nile smiled. “Everything will…” 

She couldn’t finish her sentence because that moment her phone started to ring. 

“Excuse me,” she said, apologizing, and took the call. She walked away a few steps and Joe turned back to the exhibition in front of him. 

But when he heard something rustling he looked over his shoulder. He expected to see Nile again but there was a man in a black suit and he seemed lost. He held one of the floorplans in his hands and scrutinized it. 

Joe cocked his head. The man had shoulder length, dark blond hair and wore dark-rimmed glasses and a black suit. Over his shoulder hung a brown, well-worn leather bag. He looked at the floorplan again, then around, then at the floorplan and a crease formed between his brows. He turned around and looked at the floorplan again.

“Signore,” Joe said and went over to him. The man looked up, frowning. “This part of the museum is still closed,” he explained. “We’re opening in two days.” 

The man lowered the floorplan and now Joe’s brows hit his hairline. He wore a black shirt with a clerical collar under his jacket. This man was a priest. 

“Mi scusi,” the man said and smiled at Joe. “I… try to figure out where I am,” he said and pointed at the floorplan. 

“May I?” Joe asked and pointed at the sheet in the man’s hand and with another smile he handed it over to Joe. He looked at it and then realized the man held it the wrong way round. Joe turned it and then pointed at it. 

“You’re here,” he said and the man slapped his forehead. 

“Madre di Dio! I held it the wrong way,” he said and blushed and Joe could only stare at him because the priest was really cute. “Grazie mille!” His eyes sparkled behind his glasses. 

He studied the floorplan intensely for a few more moments before he smiled and nodded at Joe again. 

“Grazie,” he repeated. “You are a very kind man.” 

Joe blushed again. 

“You said you’re opening this here in two days?” the priest asked and Joe nodded. “Then I will come back then. It is very nice art,” he said and before Joe could thank him he walked away, still scrutinizing his floorplan. 

“Pity,” he heard a voice beside him and startled a bit. Nile stood there and saw the priest walk away. 

“Huh?” he asked and she nodded at the man who made a few steps to the right, then looked up, then watched his floorplan again before he turned left and walked away. 

“He’s cute, isn’t he?” she said and shrugged. “Pity, that he’s a priest.” 

Joe, who wasn’t a very religious man, cocked his head. He grew up in a muslim family but didn’t practice his religion himself. And even if he lived in Rome for years now, he still didn’t know much about christianity.

“Catholic priests practice celibacy,” she said. 

“How do you know he’s catholic?” he asked 

"We're in Rome, Joe," Nile said and gestured around herself. "What else would he be? This is like their headquarter." Joe understood. 

“Oh!” he said. “Yeah, pity indeed.”


	2. Chapter 2

Nicky left the museum and walked down the street to the metro station Repubblica. He went to one of the public restrooms, entered a stall and locked the door behind himself. With a sigh he tied his hair back in a ponytail and removed the glasses. He put them in a case before he threw them in his bag. 

And then he removed the collar, opened two buttons of his shirt and sighed. Finally he could breathe again. He found his shades in the bag, put them on and shoved them up in his hair. When he was done he flushed the toilet, opened the door and went to the sink. He looked in the mirror while washing his hands. He looked completely different now, younger, more modern… and definitely not as catholic as before. His sister always said it’s his ‘Gigolo’ look. He smirked at his image in the mirror and left the restroom to get to his subway train. 

When he was seated and the train was moving he took out the floorplan he had held in his hands in the museum. He wanted to work but his thoughts went back to the man who told him that he held it the wrong way round. 

He was cute, Nicky had to admit. The curly hair, the beard, the kind, sparkling eyes. Pity that he was there for a job. 

His thoughts got interrupted when he had to get off of the train. He walked a few minutes through the streets till he arrived at the house where he had his _hideout_ in. He walked up the stairs to the third floor and unlocked the door. 

Nicky placed his bag on a chair, removed his jacket and searched for the glasses. He sat down at the small table, pulled the laptop on it over to him and started it. Then he attached the glasses with a cable and accessed the video file on it. In the frame was a tiny camera and it had recorded everything Nicky hadn’t seen in the short span of time he’s been in there. 

At least he had had time enough to look around everywhere in the museum before cutie came over to help the poor, lost priest. 

Nicky sighed and concentrated to mark all the cameras, the pressure sensors and the others security measures. The exhibition opened in two days and he wanted to be back in Mdina by then, preferably with ‘Rose Isabella’, one of the paintings of J. Jay. 

But in the end he just smiled, when he saw cutie in the video again. He came over to help and for a moment Nicky regretted that he didn’t have more time. Sure, it wasn’t a commission this time but he didn’t want to stay in Rome longer than necessary with a stolen painting in his possession. Maybe he wouldn’t call Andromache when he was back. Maybe he would just keep the painting, would add it to his personal collection even if he was sure Andy would be able to sell it profitably. 

The first time he had seen J. Jay’s art while he was still spraying graffitis everywhere in the world. They were so beautiful and vibrant but unfortunately most of them got destroyed, painted over. It was a shame. 

But then he had heard that he became sort of famous and he switched to canvas instead of walls. That was Nicky’s opportunity to get his hands on one of his beautiful works. He would decide what to do with the painting when he was back in Mdina. 

Until then? He had a job to do and not much time left. So he’d better forget cutie and concentrate on the task in front of him.

Nicky sighed again, rose, went to his coffee maker, prepared himself a cup of coffee before he went back to his laptop. This was going to be a long afternoon.


	3. Chapter 3

“Nile?” Joe said as soon as he heard her taking the call. “I… need to go to the museum.” 

“What?” Nile asked and yawned audibly. “It’s… what?” 

“The installations, Nile,” he said. “They are… they are wrong. I need to look them over.” 

“What?” Nile asked again. She yawned once more and Joe heard rustling through the phone. Apparently she was in her bed and Joe had woken her.

“Joe, you’re calling me at oh-dark-thirty to tell me the installations are wrong?” 

“Yes,” Joe hissed. “I need to rearrange them or we can’t show them to the people tomorrow. I miscalculated the angles and now they are in the wrong relation to the paintings.” 

“Are you kidding me?” Nile grouched. 

“No, I’m dead serious! I need to rearrange the installations!” He insisted. 

“And how do you think this is going to happen? The museum is closed. No one is there!” Nile sighed. 

“There’s… is a guard there?” Joe asked. He paced in his living room and stared at the schematics on his table. 

“Of course there are guards there,” Nile said. “But you can’t go in, there’s the security system and… and lasers and… god… it’s too early and I’m really tired, Joe!” 

Joe stopped in front of his table, looked at the schematics again and at the mistakes he had made. 

“I will not allow anyone to see my installations if they are wrong,” he said now and Nile was quiet for a long moment. 

“You’re kidding, right?” she asked then and Joe took a deep breath. 

“No, I’m not,” he said and it was quiet at the other end of the line for a while. 

“It’s in the middle of the night, Joe!” Nile burst out. “What do you think I’m supposed to do?” 

“Call the security and tell them I’ll come over and work on my installations?” he suggested. Nile took a deep breath again and sighed audibly. 

“Give me a minute,” she said then and quit the call. 

Joe started pacing again and he took the papers with the schematics of his installations. He was so angry at himself right now. He had worked a week to arrange them and now he had just a few hours left to fix them. He should’ve kept to his paintings, he thought to himself but these installations, they were important for the paintings. The paintings only worked together with them and now they were wrong and…

The phone beeped and Joe pressed the green button so hard, the poor thing almost crunched in his hand. 

“Yeah?” he snapped. 

“I called security,” Nile said. “They’ll let you in.” 

“Thanks, Nile,” he said but she had ended the call already. 

Joe slid into his jacket, grabbed the schematics, his phone, his keys and his helmet and ran out the door. He put on the helmet on his way down the stairs and hurried to his Vespa. And twenty minutes later he was at the museum. 

“I’m really, really sorry,” he said to the security man, who glared at him when he let him in. 

Joe hurried to the section where his exhibition would take place. The security guard had told him that they disarmed the system and that he could go in. He threw his jacket on the floor, took his schematics and started to smooth out his mistakes. 

He had no idea how long he worked when he heard a noise. He frowned and sat up, looked at his watch - it was four in the morning - and listened. The sound didn’t come back but Joe was sure he had seen something flicker in the other room. He rose and as quietly as possible he sneaked to the passage. 

Maybe it was just one of the guards but he had learned that they didn’t sneak around in the museum and so he carefully peeked around the corner and into the room.

Joe stiffened because someone was there. And the someone just seemed to steal ‘Rose Isabella’!


	4. Chapter 4

Nicky had planned everything perfectly. A friend of him, Booker, a gifted hacker, had provided him with a program that could produce a _hole_ in the museum’s security system so that he could get in. Booker had helped him quite a few times and Nicky got him rare, old books when he had the chance. 

Dressed completely in black he sat on the roof, his computer on his knees. Booker had configured the virus so he just had to start it. When he saw it working he opened the top light beside himself. He had attached a rope on the roof and hooked himself in with a snap hook. A last glance inside confirmed that the coast was clear and so he let the rope fall in and climbed down. 

He looked at his watch. The guards wouldn’t come in for at least twenty minutes and by then he wanted to be gone. 

Slowly and without making a noise he sneaked to the section where ‘Rose Isabella’ was. From one of the other sections he saw a light and frowned for a moment. No one was supposed to be here at the moment. He listened but when he couldn’t hear anything he continued sneaking to ‘Rose Isabella’. 

Three years ago Nicky had seen the original graffiti that inspired this painting, a huge rose at the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum in Boston. It’s been so beautiful and when it was overpainted people actually complained. But then he heard the rumor that J. Jay made a painting with the official name ‘Remember the Rose of Isabella’. And Nicky knew he had to get it. 

He sneaked through the museum, carefully to not accidentally run into the guards. And then he saw it. ‘Rose Isabella’. So beautiful. 

Nicky smiled when he sneaked over to it. Fortunately the virus Booker had written ensured that he didn’t have to watch his feet. And so he stood in front of the painting of his desire and his smile broadened. He took out his flashlight to check if the frame was separately secured but when he saw that it wasn’t, he grabbed it and unhung it. He placed it on the ground, face down so he could open the frame when he heard steps.

His head snapped around. The guards shouldn't come into this room for ten minutes. But someone was here. 

It was the man with the curly hair who had helped him. He saw him, stared for a second, said something that sounded a lot like a curse in a language Nicky didn’t understand… and then he started to run over to him. 

Nicky looked around frantically. He needed to get away. But just as he turned around the man tackled him from behind and they both went down. The crash pressed the air out of Nicky’s lungs. And then the man reached for the mask he had over his head.

“No,” he panted and twisted under him, tried to elbow his face but the man was quick and strong and he grabbed his arm before he could try it again. Nicky bucked, he tried to get him off of his back but cutie just punched him in the head and for a moment his vision went fuzzy. 

It was enough for the man on top of him to grab his mask again and this time he actually managed to pull it away. He grabbed Nicky’s shoulder and turned him around while he still straddled him and Nicky had no idea how he had managed that. But there he was, lying on his back, the cute guy sitting on top of him and staring disbelievingly. 

“You?”


	5. Chapter 5

Joe saw a man, dressed in black, wearing a mask over his face leaning over ‘Rose Isablella’. His head snapped up and he stared at him. 

A thief! Someone tried to steal one of his paintings! 

“Kloothommel!” he cursed him in Dutch. “Krijg de pest!” Since he grew up in the Netherlands he involuntarily switched to Dutch when he was furious. 

The thief turned around, tried to flee but Joe couldn’t let him get away. He wanted to steal _his_ painting! 

He sped up and just jumped at him from behind, knocked him over and landed on his back. 

“Uff,” made the thief when he hit the floor and for a moment he just stayed in this position. But just for a tiny moment. 

Joe used the momentum and reached up to pull off his mask. He wanted to see the damn bastards face before he would go to jail! 

“No!” the man breathed and writhed under him like an eel. He could barely hold him and he twisted around and tried to elbow him in the face. Joe saw it coming and he grabbed his arm, pulled it around and onto his back. The thief bucked under him, tried to get him off of his back and Joe just punched his head. The man stilled, shook his head and that was enough for Joe to grab his mask. He pulled it away and saw dark-blonde longish hair, tied into a ponytail, coming up. 

The man struggled again when he reached for his shoulder and turned him around. And then he stilled because of course he recognized the man immediately, even without his glasses. 

“You?” he asked because no one else but the cute priest from two days ago lay between his legs and stared up at him. 

The man beneath him started to buck again, struggled and Joe lost his balance. He yelped but reached out to grab him and then they both stilled because they heard steps coming closer very fast. Apparently a guard had heard them and hurried over. 

The thief’s eyes widened in panik, he looked at the entrance, then up at him and before Joe could react the man had wrapped his legs around his waist and had grabbed his face, pulled him down and… kissed him. 

His lips were soft but they pressed at his now insistently and Joe’s brain short-circuited. He wanted to protest and opened his mouth a bit and the man just took it as an invitation. He slid his tongue in Joe’s mouth, touched his tongue and Joe couldn’t help himself, he just moaned because the guy tasted so damn intriguing. His hands carded through his hair now and Joe closed his eyes. 

“Hey, is everything…” a man called and that broke the spell… and the kiss. Joe turned to look over his shoulder, saw a guard standing there staring at him with wide eyes. 

“Is… uh… is everything okay?” the guard asked dumbfounded. “Sir?” 

“It’s… uh…” Joe said and looked at the thief for a moment. He should tell the guard that he should arrest the man for trying to steal his painting but now… “It’s okay,” he said and when the guard frowned he added. “A friend came over to help me and… we got carried away.” 

The thief swallowed hard, an unreadable expression on his face and Joe could see his beautiful blue eyes widen a bit. 

“It’s okay,” he said again. “We’ll let you know when we’re done with rearranging the installations.” 

The guard mumbled something into his beard and walked the other way and the thief looked up at him again. 

“It’s you, yes? You are J. Jay, right?” And Joe nodded slowly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I googled Dutch swearwords :D And apparently "Kloothommel" means "testicle bumblebee". I like Dutch swearwords :D   
> "Krijg de pest" means someone should "get the pest".


	6. Chapter 6

The moment the guard was out of earshot Nicky started to buck again. He still had his legs wrapped around J. Jay’s waist and now he tried to turn him over to get away.

But the man was fast, he grabbed both of Nicky’s wrists and pressed them onto the floor above his head.

“Godverdomme!” he cursed. “I can call him back!” 

Nicky stilled, breathing hard, and he swallowed and licked his lips. He could still taste the other man. And to add insult to injury, he just realized the position they were in and his dick decided this would be the best moment to get hard. 

He tried to move his hips so the other man wouldn’t feel it but the guy just glared at him. 

“Will you stop already,” he hissed. Nicky obeyed. And his dick hardened a bit more. 

The man’s eyes went wide because apparently he could feel it now, too, and Nicky’s cheeks started to burn. 

“What… what are you up to now?” he eventually asked and the man blinked a few times. 

“First of all I want an explanation,” he said. 

“An explanation for what?” Nicky asked. “I mean, it’s pretty obvious why I am here, right?” 

“You’re here to steal ‘Rose Isabella’,” J. Jay stated. 

Nicky licked his lips again and then half nodded, half shrugged. 

“You’re… not wrong,” he admitted. 

“And then you’re going to sell it to some rich ass and...” the man spat but Nicky just held his gaze. 

“Actually…” he interrupted him, “no, that was not the plan.” 

The man blinked. 

“What?” 

“I don’t want to sell it,” Nicky said. 

“Wha… why do you want to steal it then?” the man asked dumbfounded and Nicky tried to shift again. His dick was still achingly hard in his pants and it still rubbed along the other man’s lower body. 

“I’ve seen the Rose in Boston,” he said. “And I loved it.” 

“You want to keep it?” J. Jay asked and Nicky nodded. “For yourself?” 

“Uh… yes?” 

“You could’ve bought it,” J. Jay said. “When the exhibition is over, the paintings are for sale.” 

“That’s not how I work,” Nicky snorted. He shifted again and tested the man’s grip around his wrists. “Could you maybe…” he said and wriggled his fingers.

“No,” J. Jay said and shook his head. He still leaned so close over Nicky, just a few centimeters and he could kiss him again. 

“Let’s face it,” Nicky said when the man just scrutinized him. “You also didn’t ask for permission when you sprayed your graffitis, right? So we're both criminals.” 

The man finally sat back and took a deep breath. 

“You’re right,” he said. “But that’s over now. And…” 

“Could you please, please get off of me?” Nicky said. His hard-on, trapped under the man’s hips, became really uncomfortable. 

“So that you can run away?” J. Jay asked and cocked his head and Nicky almost whined because that was so cute, he really wanted to kiss him again. 

“Would you believe me if I promise not to run away?” Nicky asked and the man snorted. 

“You tried to steal my painting. Maybe the next thing you try is to kill me,” he said and now Nicky snorted.

“That’s ridiculous. I could never do that,” he said. “I steal art, I don’t destroy it.” 

“What?” J. Jay asked and blinked at him, really confused now and Nicky took a deep breath. 

“You’re the artist,” he said and nodded with his head at the paintings and the installations around them, “and the art.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't need to google “Godverdomme!”, my brother-in-law says it all the time. He lives so close to the Netherlands that he picked up some terms. And it means "Goddammit" :D


	7. Chapter 7

Joe sat back and blinked. This man really behaved oddly. First he sneaked around here disguised as a priest, then he broke in and tried to steal ‘Rose Isabella’, then he kissed him and now he told him he was art. 

“What?” he asked again and the man shrugged. 

“You own a mirror, right?” he said and Joe felt his cheeks burn. 

“Compliments won’t get you anywhere,” he grouched and the thief actually had the audacity to grin at him. 

“Listen, I would highly recommend moving a bit or this,” he gestured with his chin at the point where he still sat on the man’s privates, “is going to get messy.” 

Joe blushed again and he cursed himself for it. He couldn’t remember a time where he blushed that much, like a schoolboy with a crush. But he finally moved off of the man and flopped on his ass beside him. 

“All right,” he said. “Run if you have to.” 

But the thief just sat up and shifted uncomfortably. 

“You’re still working on your exhibition?” he suddenly asked and Joe sighed. 

“I…” he gestured vaguely with his hand in the direction of the other room, “I made a few mistakes with the installations and I have to rearrange them.” 

“Do you need help?” the thief asked and Joe stared at him as if he grew a second head. Did he really just ask him if he needed help? 

“What?” he managed but the thief only shrugged. 

“I held you up,” he said. “The least I could do is to help you, right?” 

“You gotta be fucking kidding, right?” 

“No,” the thief said. “I’m serious.” 

Joe blinked again and then shook his head disbelievingly. 

“You want to help me?” he asked and the thief smiled. 

“You told the guard I’m your friend who’s here to help you,” he said. “Wouldn’t it be conspicuous if I was gone the next time he comes in?” 

“And you don’t want to steal my painting anymore?” Joe asked warily. 

The thief grinned. 

“Plans change,” he said and then got up. He held out his hand for Joe to take it and then hoisted him up. When they stood Joe gestured at the other room. 

“If you’re really serious,” he said. “This way.” 

The thief nodded and walked over and Joe followed him. On the way he grabbed his mask and put it in the back pocket of his pants. 

“So,” he said, “What can I do?” 

“You can help me with this,” Joe said and pointed in a direction.

“Can I ask you a question?” the thief asked and Joe turned to him. 

“Only when I can ask you one, too,” he blurted and the thief cocked his head and then nodded. 

“That’s only fair,” he said. And when Joe gestured with his hand to go on, he asked, “Why these installations?” 

Joe pursed his lips for a second. 

“When I spray graffiti,” he said, “I involve the surroundings, the _city_ , so to speak. The shadows, the natural light and all that. But here, in a museum, there is no natural light and no surroundings and so I created the installations to simulate the city. Here,” he said and went to a spotlight attached to one of the installations and switched it on. “Do you see how it changes the painting?” 

The thief looked and his eyes widened. 

“Oh my god,” he breathed, “That’s brilliant.” 

And once again Joe blushed. 

“You wanted to ask a question, too,” the thief said. 

“Why disguise as a priest?” he wanted to know and the man actually laughed. Joe liked the sound. 

“We’re in Rome,” he said. “There are so many of them, there’s no better disguise.” 

“That’s… probably true,” Joe said. 

“But if you want to get finished,” the guy then said, “we need to get a move on.” 

“Right,” Joe said and rubbed his hands together. “I was just working on this installation here,” he said and led him to one of the metal constructions. 

“Okay,” the thief asked. “Tell me what you want me to do.” 

And Joe did.


	8. Chapter 8

“Wow,” Nile said when she saw the rearranged installations together with the paintings and the light. “It’s really better now.” 

“Told you so,” Joe said and grinned. 

“Looks like a lot of work,” she said and Joe pressed his lips together for a moment. 

“Yeah,” he said. “We worked till noon and…” 

“We?” Nile interrupted him, her head cocked questioningly. 

“Uh… you know… the royal we,” he said hastily and Nile nodded slowly. But just when he saw her open her mouth he said, “You know, we're tired. we’ll go home, shower, take a nap, grab a bite and are back in a few hours.” And right on cue he yawned. 

“Don’t be late,” Nile said and slapped his arm with a smile. 

“I won’t.” 

He went to the door, to his Vespa outside and put his helmet on. On his way back to the apartment he thought about the cocky thief. He had helped him rearrange the installations and when they were done and he turned to him to thank him, he was gone. Vanished into thin air. He had asked the guards if they had seen him but they just shook their heads. No, they hadn’t seen him. Maybe he was gone the way he came in, Joe had no idea. It was a pity he didn’t tell him his name. But then he scolded himself. The guy was a thief. He wouldn’t tell him his name so Joe could go to the cops. 

With a sigh he parked the Vespa in front of the building where his apartment was, took of his helmet and walked up the stairs. And with another sigh he went into the shower.

***

Joe was nervous. He was back in the museum, dressed to the nines and a glass of champagne in his hand. People were walking around, looking at his paintings, at the installations. They were talking and Nile introduced him to so many people. He couldn’t keep all the names, so he just smiled and thanked them for coming.

He had seen a few people who seemed familiar and Nile had told him that at least two of them worked for newspapers. At least someone would write about his exhibition but he wasn’t sure if they actually _liked_ his stuff. 

“They love it, Joe,” Nile reassured him. “I mean, look at their faces. And they told you they liked them, right?” 

“People…” he croaked and cleared his throat. “People often tell you they like your stuff without actually meaning it.” 

“Trust me,” she laughed. “They love it.” 

“Inshallah,” he muttered and took another sip from his champagne. 

More people came to him, congratulated him to his exhibition, to his art and told them their own opinion about his paintings and Joe listened and smiled and continued thanking them for coming. 

And then his eyes spotted a face he really hadn’t expected. 

Wearing a beautiful dark blue suit, a black shirt and shades in his hair, the audacious thief just strolled in, a bouquet of purple hyacinths and white orchids in his hand. 

“Is that…” Nile, who had spotted him, too, asked, “the priest?” 

“He’s not a priest,” Joe mumbled and walked over to him. Nile followed him.

“What are you doing here?” he hissed and the man flashed a smile. 

“I’m just a humble admirer of your art,” he said and held the bouquet out for Joe. “And I want to say sorry.” 

“Sorry?” Joe echoed. 

“Yes,” the man said, still smiling. “For… you know…” he gestured around the room and Nile looked confused from him to Joe and back. 

“Who’s that, Joe?” she asked and the man’s smile broadened. He winked at Joe and then held his hand out for Nile to shake it. 

“My name is Nicolò, but friends call me Nicky,” he said. “And I’m a huge fan of his art.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I googled. In the flower language both, purple hyacinths and white orchids, mean sorry, forgive me. Jfyi :D


	9. Chapter 9

**Epilogue**

Andy sat on a bench, a cigarette in her hand and watched the people in front of her. She smiled, when she saw Nicky and Joe dancing together, both happily smiling at each other. Both wore white, matching suits and couldn’t avert their eyes. 

Booker, who had just fetched drinks, came over to her, sat down beside her and handed her one of the glasses. 

“Who would’ve guessed that,” he said and they both clinked glasses. They drank. 

“We should kill Joe,” Andy mused and Booker spluttered beside her. 

“Pardon ?” he said and looked at her incredulously. 

Andy sighed. 

“A year ago we had a thriving business,” she said and then she gestured at Joe. “And then he came along and made an honest man out of our thief.” 

“Quelle tragédie,” Booker said and took another swig from his glass. 

“He’s coming,” Andy said and gestured with her cigarette at the man coming over. 

“Hey,” Nicky said as soon as he was within earshot. “What are you doing here?” 

“Oh,” Andy smiled. “We just needed a break.” She nodded at her cigarette. 

Nicky shooed Booker over and sat down between the two of them. 

“I can’t believe it,” he sighed. “I mean… look at him,” he said and gestured at Joe, who just danced with Nile. “I can’t believe it’s really true.” 

Andy grinned and pinched his cheek. 

“Ouch,” he yelped. “Okay, it _is_ true.” 

“He seems happy,” Booker said. “And you as well.” 

“I am,” Nicky nodded. “He’s the best thing that ever happened to me. I mean, look at him. He’s so beautiful and kind and warm-hearted and he even left Rome to live here in Malta with me.” 

“You’re a lucky man, Nicolò,” Andy said and placed her arm around his shoulder. 

“I am,” Nicky said, a sappy smile on his face when Joe looked in his direction and smiled, too, for a moment. His heart actually leaped in his chest when he saw the smile directed at him. “Oh god, I’m so doomed. I will never be able to live without this man anymore.” 

“That’s quite possible,” Booker said and took another sip from his drink. 

“I had an idea,” Nicky suddenly blurted and looked at the two people beside him. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Why don’t we start a new business? We’re going to check the security systems of museums, banks, jewelers and whatever and show them what they can do to improve them.” 

“Seriously?” Andy looked at him, her eyes squinted. 

“Of course I’m serious,” he said. “I’m unemployed nowadays and - as far as I know - you two are, too.” 

“That’s… not a bad idea,” Andy admitted. “We were good, really good, we could do that. Book?” 

“I don’t know,” Booker said slowly. “He fucked up his last job royally.” 

“I did what?” Nicky gasped and Booker shrugged.

“You went to steal art and took the artist instead. I’d call that a fail.” 

“Pezzo di cretino,” Nicky laughed. “So, what do you say, Booker?”

“Why not,” he sighed. “It’s not as if I have something else to do.” 

“Cool,” Nicky grinned at the two of them. “We just need a cool name. What do you think?” 

Andy deliberated for a long moment, then she smirked. “The Old Guard.” 

“Sounds pretty good,” Booker nodded. 

“And impressive,” Nicky added. “Then we do this?” 

“We do this,” Booker said.

“Okay,” Andy said as well. 

Nicky rose and held his hand out for Andy. “Come on,” he said. “I want to dance with my best woman.” 

Andy rolled her eyes but stubbed out her cigarette and followed Nicky back to the party with a fond smile. 

“I guess,” Booker muttered when he was alone, “I should introduce myself to the other best woman.” And when Nile just looked in his direction, he raised his glass and saluted in her direction. “Yes, that’s what I should do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, for the kudos and all the lovely comments! :D

**Author's Note:**

> [asamandra on tumblr](http://asamandra.tumblr.com/)   
>  [clintbartonruinedmylife on tumblr](https://clintbartonruinedmylife.tumblr.com/)   
> 


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